


Don't You Know Me (From My Shadow)

by Myrime



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Deception, Don't copy to another site, Happy Ending, Hurt Steve Rogers, Kidnapping, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Pre-Relationship, Skrull(s), Team as Family, Whumptober, shackles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-25 22:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20919374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: Steve and Tony's favourite pastime is yelling at each other. After a mission, Steve appears changed, but Tony is so glad they are finally becoming something like friends that he does not question it too much. That makes it almost too easy for the Skrulls to infiltrate the Avengers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Whumptober 2019](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) Day 6: Dragged Away.
> 
> Enjoy!

The training session does not end in as much of a disaster as it could have. Still, Steve is seething.

Tony just does not listen. He always goes off, doing whatever bright idea comes to his mind without consulting anyone, ignoring the bigger picture for some instant, and possibly short-lived, reward.

Swooping down to help Natasha out of a pickle might have been commendable, but left the enemies Tony had been engaged with to swarm down on the rest of them. Had this been a real mission, they might have ended up with more than some bruises and the faithfully calculated property damage they seem to leave behind wherever they go.

“You really don’t give a shit about this team, do you?” Steve snaps after the simulation is over. He has stayed behind while the rest of the team has already left, going for a shower or an early lunch. “This is all just some ego trip for you.”

Tony, who has been fiddling with the computer responsible for the simulations, looks over his shoulder, his spine tense. He looks tired, but they are all tired these days. None of the rest steps out of line because of it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t base my entire character on a simulation,” Tony says, a hint of reproach in his tone, easily distinguishable beneath his flippant expression.

Because Tony’s character is so much better off the field. They rub each other wrong wherever they meet, no matter what they are doing. When Steve is not currently angry about another order Tony outright ignored, he is saddened by it. They are supposed to be a team, but Tony seems to constantly work against that.

“This simulation was meant to strengthen our teamwork so that we might be able to work on a plan together instead of running havoc out there,” Steve says, crossing his arms in front of him.

He understands that a man like Tony does not like to be told what to do. Steve _is_ their team leader, though. Clear communication would help a lot.

Tony turns fully around and leans against the console. He is still wearing the suit, which makes him automatically look like he is ready to fight. That the faceplate is open, revealing his smirk, only increases that impression.

“Your plan was stupid,” Tony says and leaves it at that, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

Steve’s mood is plummeting further. It is always coming down to that. “That’s your argument?”

“It was,” Tony says and shrugs as if nothing of this can touch him.

“And all of your plans are naturally better than mine,” Steve replies dryly, meaning it as a provocation, but Tony barely reacts to it. “Because you’ve got so much experience with leading a team.”

Steve would not even mind getting input from Tony, but it never happens like that. When Steve orders Tony to go right, Tony goes left. Every time. At some point, that is going to get someone injured or killed. Steve does not want to be responsible for that.

“Situations change and the plan has to change with them,” Tony argues, still completely unmoved, still convinced he is right.

Steve stares, trying to find a gap in Tony’s armour – the mental one, not the suit. “Not without communication,” he says, knowing full well that is their weakest point.

The smile on Tony’s face turns strained. “That’s a bit hard if you don’t ever listen to me,” he says and glances at the console behind him. If Steve did not know better, he would think Tony is avoiding to look at him.

With everybody else, Steve would give in now, would try to soothe both their tempers. As it is, he is restless and angry, and just wants things to go the way they are supposed to. 

“Maybe if you’d try to say something of substance for once,” Steve snaps, resigned for this to turn into another yelling match.

True enough, Tony straightens. Where his pose has been all nonchalant dismissal before, he now stands as if he expects things to come to blows. He does that too often for Steve to believe it is a coincidence. It makes him wonder who Tony used to argue with before that this kind of preparedness would be necessary.

“You preach so much about teamwork,” Tony sneers, making that sound like a defect, “but I have yet to –”

The Avengers alarm cuts him off, loud and impossible to ignore, causing an immediate adrenaline boost. Despite the fact that this means people might be in danger somewhere, Steve is almost glad for it. He does not like arguing with Tony, and yet it is all they ever do.

“Saved by the alarm,” Tony mutters, but Steve picks it up easily. He is just not sure whether that is another insult. “JARVIS, what do we have?”

The confrontational air falls off Tony as if they had never raised their voices as he turns to the business at hand.

“A warehouse at the docks went up in flames,” JARVIS reports. “There appear to be robots at the scene.”

Robots, great. Steve remembers Bucky being so very excited about all the possibilities the future holds. So far, Steve is not sure whether the advantages weigh out the fact that modern tech makes it so much easier for people to fight each other.

“Patch the coordinates through,” Tony says and is already moving.

He has to get past Steve, so Steve takes an instinctive step to the side, blocking Tony’s path.

“You can’t go in blindly,” Steve says, sounding urgent more than chiding.

He knows how this story goes. Tony is usually the fastest since he does not depend on the quinjet getting him anywhere. He swoops in, forms his own opinion of what is going on and then follows his own plan, leaving Steve to struggle to catch up.

“I’m not blind,” Tony scoffs. “Somebody has to do some recon.”

Recon does not mean getting in danger on his own, though. Recon does not mean taking on all the enemies by himself. Recon does not mean outrunning one’s own team in fear of being left behind.

“Not without us there to back you up,” Steve says, unsure how to pack his thoughts into words. Despite their constant arguing, he values Tony, on the field and off.

Something passes over Tony’s face too quickly for Steve to interpret. “Better fly that quinjet fast then.”

With that, he starts moving, sidestepping Steve easily.

“Stark,” Steve calls, even while he expects no response.

Sure enough, Tony does not listen. The faceplate clicks shut and he is airborne before Steve can say anything else, no doubt about to throw himself into the fight like he is still on his own and does not have a team.

It is frustrating, this constant refusal to let anyone close.

Steve does not have any time to contemplate the conundrum that is Tony Stark, however. He hurries out of the training room and catches up with the rest of his team. It is convenient timing that none of them has to suit up first.

* * *

The situation does not look drastic enough that the Avengers needed to be called in. They might be the go-to solution for anything weird happening in New York, but the warehouse fire has not spread and the robots have not swarmed out far either. Still, they are hard to take down.

Steve watches as Iron Man flies around them up ahead, baiting them to chase him before picking them off one by one. It takes several hits for them to stop moving. Steve thinks it is going to be cathartic to hit something that cannot feel pain.

“Are there any civilians in danger?” Steve asks through the comms after he has taken in all he can from his position on the ground.

“The area is clear,” JARVIS replies. In these situations, the AI is worth all the trouble Steve has with Tony. His scans make their life so much easier.

“All right, Hawkeye, get yourself up to that roof over there,” Steve orders, scanning the surroundings for the best positions for his teammates. “Widow, you’re on border control. Make sure nobody comes in and they don’t get out. Stark, keep them busy.” Already moving, he adds, “Thor and I are going to join the fray.”

Things are not going to be that simple, of course.

“My, are you telling me you’re actually all right with what I’m doing?” Tony’s voice chimes up on the comms. “No telling me that my plan was wrong?”

This is just teasing because Tony cannot just let anything drop. Sometimes it feels like he wants to argue with Steve, like he is constantly testing whether or not Steve is still going to stand up to him.

Tony’s _plan_ right now has been to take out the robots any way he can. If there is not a hidden reason for the attack, that is as good a strategy as any.

“I would,” Steve drawls as he sprints forward. “But that would only be possible if you had a plan.”

“I did,” Tony counters immediately. A few seconds later, parts of a robot land close to Steve with a sickening crash. That is clearly meant as a message that Tony is perfectly in control of what he is doing and how.

“I know,” Steve sighs, infinitely glad to be able to sink his shield into an enemy when one of the robots comes up to him. “Attack. It’s not just about that.”

Iron Man flies by overhead, tailed by at least four enemies, but Steve does not worry about him. Whether or not they agree on strategic matters, the suit can pack a punch. Tony is too wary of being defenceless that he would let a few tin cans get the better of him.

“It wouldn’t hurt for you to admit at least once that other people are capable of making good decisions too,” Tony says after a few moments. He is at least concentrating on the fight instead of prioritizing his argument with Steve.

Throwing his shield, Steve ducks under a blow and reacts by sinking his fist into the nearest robot’s chest. It leaves a dent but the robot is still coming at him.

“I’ve yet to see you do that,” he says once he straightens again, catching his shield.

If there was not so much bite to their arguing, it could almost be fun. At least out here on the field while none of them is in immediate danger and they have an outlet for their frustration.

“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this for once,” Natasha pipes up, taking Steve by surprise. Sometimes it is hard to remember that the comms includes the entire team. “But could you cut the chatter.”

Shame drives blood into Steve’s cheeks. It is usually him asking for silence on the comms when Tony and Clint’s jokes become a little too much.

“Yeah,” Clint adds as if he has read Steve’s thoughts. Then again, he just does not like to be outdone by anyone. “Don’t you know that Mum and Dad should not argue in front of the kids?”

Steve thinks it would be hypocritical of him to ask them to – please – shut up now. He does not get the opportunity to do so, in any case, because Tony pipes up happily.

“The make-up sex isn’t even worth it.”

Certain that his entire face is beet red by now, Steve turns towards two robots, throwing himself against them.

“Stark,” he growls in warning, but to no avail. Tony has never let anyone shut him up that easily.

“His bedside manner is terrible too,” Tony jokes, not hiding his laughter.

Steve grits his teeth and decides to let it drop. He is supposed to set an example the rest of the team can follow. So he concentrates on the fight, on the weight of the shield in his hands, and on the fact that the robots do not mock him as he takes them down.

They are making good progress but the robots keep coming. Steve has moved from the mostly collapsed warehouse to the sides to check whether any of the other buildings have been compromised.

“Stark, can you get a scan on the other warehouse to the east?” Steve asks as he comes up close to one.

There is smoke coming out of a cracked window and the door is blasted open as if something has stormed out of it. Steve is sure they need to investigate it, but he would like to know beforehand whether the roof is going to come down on his head.

“Elevated heat signals,” Tony says shortly as he shakes the robots that are tailing him to fly towards where Steve is standing. “But it doesn’t look like it’s going to crumble if we go knocking.”

A small part of Steve is glad to hear Tony’s instant readiness to follow him in. The entire team would come, of course, but as often as he and Tony argue, it is nice to know that they can count on each other anyway.

Still, Steve shakes his head. “You will stay in position and keep picking off the robots.”

That is more important than tailing Steve. He can take care of himself, and the warehouse looks rather quiet anyway, apart from the fire.

“What about your backup if you go in there alone?” Tony asks, sounding only slightly mocking in continuation of their earlier argument.

“I’m telling you right now I’m going to take a look,” Steve says with some impatience. That is all he ever wants, that if Tony is not going to listen to orders, he at least tells them what he is doing so that they can all react accordingly. “If I don’t come out, that is when you deviate from the plan.”

Lightning flashes over them and Tony seems too preoccupied for the moment to answer. Steve uses the chance to duck into the warehouse.

The world appears immediately quieter. The sounds of the fighting outside are muffled, and Steve takes a deep breath as he looks around.

A fire burns inside the warehouse but it looks strangely detached from the carnage outside. Some crates are stacked almost in the middle of the room, half-destroyed, and appear to have been lit once they had been emptied. Perhaps they had carried more of the robots.

Movement catches Steve’s eye in the back of the warehouse. It is hard to see whether it was a robot or a human since smoke is hanging in the air, making Steve’s eyes burn and hindering even his enhanced vision.

“Who is there?” he calls. Whoever it is, they must have noticed him already. It is better to draw the fight to him if it becomes necessary rather than to stumble farther into the hall. The robots have not yet shown any ability to communicate, but sounds do attract them.

Steve is not surprised when nobody answers. Things are never that easy. Despite better judgement, he takes slow steps further into the hall, searching for more movement. None of the robots outside has attempted to stealth, so Steve is immediately alert when nothing comes forward.

“Show yourself,” he tries again, although that is mostly an automatism.

Something cracks ominously from where the burning crates are stacked, but Steve barely pays it any mind. The fire is taking the wood apart. It is bound to make noises. The movement he saw was further to the back, and he is not going to look away from there.

One moment, everything is calm, then the very air seems to turn into fire. An explosion rips Steve off his feet, too sudden for him to raise the shield. The blast hits him squarely in the side and pushes him off his feet. He is flying, heat biting into his skin, and then he crashes into the ground, wood splintering beneath him.

Before he can move, before he can even make sense of where is up and down, he is hit by something else. It feels like a bullet embedding itself in his already aching flesh. Then, a second time.

Steve pulls himself into a sitting position, but that is as far as he can get. Dizziness overcomes him, pulling him back down. The warehouse in front of him has turned into a swirling mass of red and black, shadows and flames curling around each other. He cannot tell if there are people moving around him or if it is just his tired eyes playing tricks on him.

“Cap,” a voice says in his ear, but then it is getting quieter. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

He cannot quite pinpoint who it is. It must be someone of his team, but he cannot pull up their faces in his mind, cannot keep their voices apart. Something is wrong with him that has nothing to do with having been thrown across the room. Captain America is made to withstand physical damage. This feels more like his brain is shutting down.

“Everything is all right,” Steve hears himself saying. That is strange. It does not feel like his mouth is moving. He is not sure he _could_ move it if he wanted to. And he definitely does not feel all right.

The world is spinning in front of him. His ears are ringing, making it seems like there are more voices around him, and steps coming closer. A face appears above him, looking like it is shifting, unable to hold its form.

His body jerks as something pulls at his leg and then he is moving. That should not happen since he is still not on his feet. He feels the ground digging into his back, but it is not just his mind playing tricks on him.

Reaching out haphazardly, Steve tries to grab onto something. There is debris, but he is just dragging that with him as he is pulled from the warehouse.

“Give him another dose,” someone says.

Only a moment later, he feels a prick in his neck, clear and sharp despite his entire body throbbing with pain. Then, he is rapidly losing his sense of reality. The warehouse that was just grey and blurry before him sinks into black.

Steve is losing himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the [Whumptober 2019](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) Day 9: Shackled.
> 
> I lost everything I had already written, so I spent the past hour rewriting this entire chapter. If it feels rushed, it's because of that. If not for the Whumptober schedule I'd have taken more time, but I guess nobody's complaining about getting the chapter now.

When Steve comes to, he is still feeling lost. He does not often lose consciousness; his body is usually stitching itself together again too quickly. If he is out, it is mostly for mere minutes, leaving him to wake up right where he blackened out.

He does not know where he is, does not remember what he has been doing, what might have happened to knock him out. That in itself is worrying enough.

Groaning, Steve tries to take stock of his condition. He is hurting all over. Enough so that there must have either been serious damage to him or it cannot have happened too long ago. His skin is burning, itching right beneath the surface.

It is dark around him when he finally forces his eyes to stay open. He can see the outlines of a room that is unfamiliar to him. He is lying on a bed, although it is harder than anything the Avengers Tower or Medical have to offer.

Trying to push himself up, Steve hears the clicking of chains before he notices the metal around his wrists and ankles.

Panic hits him immediately, flushing the exhaustion out of his system, even if it does not do anything against the sluggishness of his movements or thoughts. He must be drugged. Drugged and shackled in a dark cell with no idea how he got here or who is responsible.

He distantly remembers the warehouse and the attacking robots. Robots usually mean Dr Doom or hijacked HammerTech. Steve is sure neither of them would want _him_ as a hostage out of all of the Avengers.

Carefully, Steve pulls himself into a sitting position and then to his feet to test how far he can get. It is sobering. Barely two steps away from the bed and the chains go tense, allowing him no more room.

Steve sits back down and tries to loosen the shackle around his left wrist. There is barely enough room to get his fingers underneath that, but it does not matter. He pulls and pulls but the metal does not give. Then he follows the chain to where it is anchored in the wall and tries again. No luck.

His uniform is gone, he does not have any tools, not enough strength to get himself free, and no idea where he is. Steve does not do well with sitting idly. For now, though, it does not seem like he has any other option.

* * *

A splitting pain jolts Steve awake, sitting right inside his skull. It is still dark around him but it is almost like he is seeing flashes in front of him.

There is their communal living room in the tower. His friends shuffling off to rest.

“Good job today,” Steve’s voice says, and Steve catches a glimpse of surprise on Stark’s face.

Whatever drug the kidnappers have given him must be potent if it makes him imagine an amicable conversation with Stark.

Steve reaches up to test whether he has any head wounds that might explain the headache. As he moves, something stretches against his neck. At first, he thinks it is merely the chain, but when he touches it, it is a metal band circling around his throat. It is light enough that he is not surprised he did not notice it earlier, and it is strangely warm. He pulls at it, slightly more desperately than on the shackles. It does not budge.

Drugged, shackled, and collared. Steve does not like where that leaves him.

* * *

“Good job,” Steve says when they are filtering into the living room of the tower.

It has Tony stopping in his tracks, it comes that unexpected. The mission certainly was not a complete mess, but they did let their Captain go into a warehouse on his own where he was almost blown up.

“Are you sure you didn’t hit your head earlier?” Tony asks, only half-joking. He even talked to Steve right before it happened and did not do anything anyway.

Steve still looks a little rough. He moves slowly like he is hurting and his armour is ripped in places, hanging off him almost as if it never really fit. Most glaringly, he is holding the shield at a strange angle, slightly away from himself like he does not want to chance bumping into it. Probably due to the burns. And Tony is sure he cannot see all of them.

“I mean it,” Steve says, sounding even cheerful. “The robots are all gone. We had no casualties. Nobody even needs to go to Medical.”

It certainly could have been worse. Looking back, it did not even seem much like an attack at all. Just like someone stored their robots and they broke out of their crates, wreaking a bit of havoc without being interested in doing any serious damage. It could have been a test, of course, to see how the Avengers would deal with that, but they have proven their worth against much more serious enemies. It does not exactly make much sense.

“Perhaps you should,” Tony cautions, still feeling slightly guilty for having left Steve on his own. “Being so close to that second explosion –”

“I have a few scratches,” Steve cuts him off and shrugs with his entire body as if to show how very fine he is. “The serum will take care of that.”

Implied in that is that, without the serum, Steve would be in trouble.

“I’m sorry for letting you go in there on your own,” Tony says.

The surprise on Steve’s face rankles him. He can apologize if he has to, if he was in the wrong. Steve usually starts yelling before they can establish whether or not Tony thinks his decision was still merited by the time they get out.

“You did what I asked,” Steve reassures him and even goes so far as to smile at Tony. “Nothing happened.”

Tony frowns. He is not used to getting off so easily. “It’s just –”

“If you don’t mind, I could really do with a shower right now,” Steve says. Now it seems like he really just wants to keep them from starting an argument. “We’ll see you for dinner?”

Tony is taken aback. That sounded suspiciously like Steve is giving him his blessing to vanish into his workshop without having to sit through some boring debriefing. Everybody knows that, once Tony locks himself up down there, nothing brings him back up before he is not done with his work or his coffee has run out.

He is not going to test his luck, though. If he does not leave now, Steve is going to remember that Tony flew right up ahead of the entire team again, throwing himself at the problem at hand without anyone’s say so. He has no desire to continue their earlier argument.

“Dinner sounds fine,” Tony calls out while he is already leaving. He is pretty sure he will not come up for any meal, but he has learned not to poke the bear.

* * *

The peace does not last long. Tony is not surprised but still disappointed. It is like neither Steve nor he ever got over that first meeting on the Helicarrier. No matter the good moments they had in between, they are still facing off more often than not.

Tony, of course, has a long history of both loving and hating Captain America, of looking up to him and cursing his very existence. Howard only ever stoked that fire, and Tony has always had problems with letting go of the past.

Being part of a team is hard for him. Trust has never come easy to him, and he has been betrayed more often than not. Steve was not wrong when he said that Tony is not the hero type. Tony might be in this to do good, but he will always scramble to make up for his mistakes.

Tony has barely pulled up the schematics of the suit to see whether he cannot increase the heat resistance in case of another explosion on the field when JARVIS announces that Steve is standing outside the workshop. It is not hard to guess what he wants, it is just strange that he postponed the yelling until the rest of the team has left.

The workshop is Tony’s sanctuary. He tries to keep his problems outside of it. Or, at least, he does not invite them in.

Still, he tells JARVIS, “Let him in.” Then he turns towards the door, awaiting his doom with open eyes.

“Tony,” Steve greets, his expression friendly in a way it seldom is when he looks at Tony. “Do you have a few minutes?”

Something is wrong here. A smile instead of a frown. A question instead of a demand. Steve really should have his head looked at. Even with an enhanced healing factor, a concussion is nothing to tread lightly. Already, Steve is showing worrisome behaviour.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me Tony before,” Tony blurts out, unable to make sense of what Steve is trying to do here.

They are not adversaries anymore like they were on the Helicarrier, constantly fighting to get the upper hand while not extending the slightest bit of trust. They are not friends either. On the field, they work well together, and they can play nice even off of it. They still communicate mostly in raised voices, constantly expecting another blow. 

“Well, let’s call it a gift for good behaviour,” Steve says and grins like they do this all the time, trading jokes, being close.

“Next you’ll be trying to feed me treats,” Tony counters, still wary but deciding to test how far Steve’s strange mood will let them get.

Steve looks down at his hands as if he is disappointed he did not bring anything. “If that gets you to eat every now and then,” he says.

Up until now, it has mostly been Bruce and Clint bringing Tony food down to the workshop, while Steve simply complained that Tony does not seem to take being a team seriously. Tony never thought Steve cared whether he misses meals.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Tony asks, looking Steve over.

The cuts and burns from earlier are already vanishing and JARVIS surely would have noticed if something was really wrong with Steve. He sees the frown settling on Steve’s face before it has fully formed and is hit by immediate regret. It is seldom enough that Steve and he are getting along. He should not throw away his chances just because he cannot believe his luck and is almost resigned already to remaining at odds with his childhood hero.

“Never mind,” Tony retracts quickly. “What do you need?”

He is certain it is too late, that he burned another bridge Steve has been building for them. Instead, Steve’s face brightens as he comes further into the workshop.

“I was wondering whether you could look at my uniform. It’s –” he says. If Tony would not know better, he would say Steve’s ears are getting a bit red. “You know.”

“Garish and outdated?” Tony quips immediately as he gets to his feet. “Cap, I’ve been telling you for ages. What made you change your mind?”

Tony has a dozen ideas for Steve’s armour ready. Ever since he saw the horrible thing SHIELD procured, which appeared to have been made more to commemorate the good old days than to offer protection, Tony knew he had to do something about that. Only Steve never let him, deciding he was either too good for anything Tony made or he did not want to owe Tony. Whatever it was, Tony is giddy at the prospect of being allowed to make it better now.

“It didn’t help much with the explosion,” Steve explains, sounding ashamed as if that was his fault. “And I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” Tony asks. No one else on the team refused his services, smart enough not to say no to free upgrades. “Have you changed place with an alternate version of yourself? No, don’t answer that. I happen to like it that we’re not yet yelling at each other.”

It feels strange, too. Mostly because it is like Tony has to be the one doing all the reassuring for once. Steve should not be uncertain around him – and he usually is not, considering that he loves telling Tony everything he is doing wrong. He apparently does not like to ask for anything, though.

“I’m sorry for that,” Steve says and sounds like he means it.

This feels too much like Steve came too close to getting actually harmed in that warehouse, thus reconsidering his relationships with his team members. Tony does not think that Steve is the only one who made mistakes, but he does not exactly like that Steve is apologizing directly after a mission. Especially considering that they went into it arguing like usual.

“Huh. I guess I’m sorry too.” Tony is not sure what is happening, but he does not want to ruin it by questioning it too much. They will either go back to normal in no time, or Tony will find out what this is about. “Now, I have some ideas for better armour for you. Anytime you want to join me in the workshop, we can talk about it.”

Steve looks relieved as if he thought Tony would refuse him. “Well, I’ve eaten and showered, so if it’s all right with you, I’m all yours right now.”

Tony can only watch in wonder as Steve comes closer and sits down on one of the chairs, slightly eager and looking like he belongs here. Captain America in the workshop of the futurist. Stranger things have surely happened, but Tony still feels out of his depth.

Still, he claps his hand and does not have to put too much effort into being able to smile.

“All right, Cap, don’t tell me I didn’t warn you,” he says and closes his current project. “I’m going to blow your mind.”

“I very much hope so,” Steve replies without missing a beat.

No matter his doubts, Tony has never backed down from a challenge. So, without further ado, they get to work.

* * *

The new armour is a piece of art. Mostly because they have done away with the too patriotic paint job – and Tony has taken the liberty of making it a little bit more formfitting than the old one. If anyone asked, he would deny having checked out their esteemed leader, but to put an ass like that into the old USO outfit should be considered a capital crime. He just hopes no one on the team will point it out before Tony has had an opportunity to see it in action.

Working together on a project was fun. Tony did have several blueprints lying around already and Steve mostly just insisted on keeping maximum agility. While a bit more protection is needed, he does have his shield – which he does use to keep himself from harm when he does not throw it like a glorified frisbee.

They spent three hours without arguing. Without even coming close to an argument. Tony thinks that must be a personal record. Even Pepper cannot go that long without getting annoyed by something he does. It is mostly a well-established character trait at this point.

When Tony emerges from the workshop two days later, the finished suit in hand, he does not know what time it is. It is dark outside, but he frankly does not want to ask JARVIS. He has a gift to deliver and he cannot wait until morning.

After he knocks on Steve’s door, it takes a while for Steve to answer. That has Tony almost reconsidering his unannounced visit, but he does not just quit when he has made up his mind.

When Steve finally opens the door, he does not look like he has been already sleeping. He is wearing comfortable clothes but his eyes are alert.

“Tony, what are you doing here?” he asks, the beginnings of a frown marring his forehead. “It’s late.”

“I know,” Tony answers quickly, then clicks his tongue. “Well, actually I don’t know. But I wanted to bring you this.”

He holds out his hands with the suit like he is making an offering. And he is. His relationship with Steve consists of more downs than ups, and he does not want to ruin the good rapport they managed to establish over the past days.

“The suit,” Steve says. His entire face brightens as he takes it off Tony. “It’s ready?”

“Of course.” Tony shrugs, unable to hide his smile. “It was a priority.”

Steve holds it up to look at it in its entirety, putting the boots to the ground where he looks them over with a grin. “I see you didn’t go with the repulsor boots.”

Steve, as Tony discovered, has a sense of humour. Not the obvious, charming one he uses on strangers and journalists. Not the sassy, slightly dark one he uses in private when they are allowing themselves to let go. He is also prone to the kind of self-deprecating jokes that leave everyone wondering whether he might not have been serious after all.

The USO turned him into a mascot. They had him dance over a stage, mock-punch enemies, and generally make himself very visible. When offered any special features for his armour, he suggested repulsors to allow him to jump even faster into danger.

“Can’t have you showing all of us up,” Tony says as if Steve is not doing so anyway. “Before you ask, I didn’t devise a repulsor beam for the shield either. That thing is a safety hazard all on its own.”

Tony does not know where Steve’s sudden obsession with the suit’s weapon array comes from, but he cannot help but feel slightly flattered. So much disdain between has come from the fact that Steve does not think that the Iron Man suit makes Tony fit to be on a team of heroes.

“That’s a shame,” Steve jokes. “I still want to try it on.”

He turns around but leaves the door open in an obvious invitation. Tony hesitates to come in, but then he scolds himself for making things weird. This is a team thing. Steve is not inviting him in so Tony can ogle him, just to make sure the suit fits.

That does not mean he can keep his eyes off Steve’s muscles when Steve shrugs off his clothes, putting himself casually on display, and puts on the new armour. Tony barely even has time to mourn the sudden lack of skin to see before Steve stands before him, looking ready for battle.

The suit fits. Of course, it does. Thanks to Howard’s obsession with Steve – which might just be a hereditary defect – Tony had Steve’s measurements before they even ended up on a team together. While Steve goes through some stretches, Tony allows himself to appreciate the way the fabric hugs Steve’s muscles.

“How does it feel?” Tony asks, barely giving any mind to his own words, too busy with looking.

In his defence, Steve usually only wears his armour when they are out fighting, and Tony does not have any time to stare then. But this is Captain America as if he stepped right out of one of the posters Tony used to have in his room as a child.

“Perfect,” Steve says and hums as he moves. Then, with a mischievous grin, he asks, “How does it look?”

Tony’s staring must have been too obvious. “Are you fishing for compliments?” he asks right back, trying to save face.

“Only if you’re going to indulge me.”

Tony does not know what is happening. Surely, Steve is not flirting with him. That is too much change in too little time. Three days ago, they have been yelling at each other every chance they got. Sudden peace is strange enough, even if they are both trying. But flirting? Perhaps he is reading too much into this.

“Well, we’ll have to see how it holds up out in the field,” Tony says, firmly changing the topic. “Tell me if there’s anything that needs changing.”

Steve nods, but when Tony turns towards the door, he comes close. Tony almost shies away but finds himself rooted in space when Steve puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Steve says slowly, looking at Tony’s lips before he drags his eyes up. “I know we’ve been arguing a lot, but I hope you know that I’m glad we’re on the same team. I’m glad we’re here together.”

They are too close, the room is too warm, Tony’s heart is beating too fast. It must be his imagination that Steve is leaning towards him and that he is glancing at Tony’s mouth as if he thinks about kissing him.

Tony’s childhood crush is messing with his present and he cannot have that. He cannot ruin this sudden amicable atmosphere between Steve and himself. For the past days, it has felt like they could be friends. Tony is going to hold onto that as hard as he can.

“I’m glad, too,” Tony manages to say. It sounds a bit choked but Steve does not look like he noticed. “Now, I’ll let you get to bed. I know what they say about old people not needing so much sleep anymore, but I don’t want to be responsible for keeping you up.”

With that, he all but flees. He still hears Steve laughing quietly in his back, but he does not turn around. It is called a tactical retreat. He has to think about what just happened before he is jumping to any conclusions.

* * *

The next evening, Tony purposely chooses not to go back to the workshop after dinner but goes to the living room with the rest of the team. They have official movie nights, but some of them usually come together every day. That is one of the upsides of living together with a team. Loneliness is much easier to battle.

“Something’s wrong with Cap,” Tony says when Steve has already gone to bed and he is sitting on the couch with Natasha and Clint. If anyone might have noticed something strange going on, it would be their resident wonder spies.

They are watching some mindless action movie that does not require even half of their attention to keep up with.

“What have you done now?” Natasha asks, looking at him with a mixture of fondness and annoyance. At least Tony hopes it is fondness. It is not so easy to tell with her.

“I’ve been my usual self,” Tony protests, knowing that is not exactly a ringing endorsement. “But have you heard any yelling?”

They cannot have. Since that first evening in the workshop, he has not gotten into a single argument with Steve. Not over who took the last cup of coffee or over being too late to meetings or over slacking during training.

It has been downright harmonic in the tower lately, and Tony cannot help but feel nervous about that.

“Are you complaining about not arguing with Steve?” Clint asks, barely looking away from the screen. He is grinning and likely already thinking of to exploit that newfound peace.

Tony sighs. He does not particularly want to go back to their old way of dealing with things. It is just strange how quickly everything changed. “I’m saying that he is not rising to any bait while I usually don’t even have to try to make him angry at me.”

“So he’s trying to keep the peace,” Natasha says, raising an eyebrow at him. Out of everyone, she probably knows the best why Tony has issues with Captain America. She did research him pretty well before she came to spy on him, and therefore knows things that are not in his official file.

“No.” Tony shakes his head, unable to believe it is just that. Steve is not the type to just give up, and Tony has not changed one bit. He is still reckless and loud and always needs to have the last word.

“Tony?”

How is Tony supposed to tell them that, just the night before, Steve came very close to kissing Tony? Or it looked like it at least. Tony might be somewhat delusional, but the more he has thought about it, the less he believes he imagined last night’s tension.

Things like that do not just happen, however. More so, they do not happen to Tony. Not when Captain America is involved, who usually seems incapable of being in the same room with Tony without exuding disapproval in waves.

“Just keep a lookout?” Tony asks and pretends he does not seem them sharing a _look_.

He does not think Steve is planning something malicious. It is just that things have changed for the better too quickly. Tony is just wary and looking out for his team. Surely there is no fault in that.

And if it turns out that Steve is genuinely interested in being Tony’s friend – or more – Tony will be the last to protest. That would be a childhood dream come true. He is just not used to believing in that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using the MCU character because I know them best, but since they made the Skrulls the good guys in Captain Marvel, this deviates from canon in that. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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